From Londoner To Lord

Chapter 344 - 339. Plans

Kivamus's thoughts drifted as he walked. Every craftsman in the village was busy with something—Darora on the scorpion, Cedoron on the iron parts, Taniok on the sawmill. It gave him time to focus on building something for the future: designing machines for making cloth, starting right from the cotton bolls. That was how the first industrial revolution had started on earth, and he knew it was the right way to progress for this village as well. But it was a long-term plan, which would probably need several months, or maybe even a year before all the machines for this project had been built and began to work properly, but that's why he had to start now.

He knew that they couldn't grow cotton here, not in this climate, and they also needed access to bigger markets to sell the clothes they would make here, but if there was one thing he had noticed in this world, it was that after food, what everyone needed the most was better clothing. That's why he knew that they would basically have access to an unlimited market once he could get the basics right for making cloth in bulk, and most importantly, for cheap. The time required to build the machines would also give him enough time to find big markets, and start looking for raw materials, hopefully before the year end.

Still, despite all his time spent reading on the internet before being transported to this world, he knew that these were complicated designs, which is why it was taking him so long to draw the blueprint of the first machine - the cotton gin. He hoped Tesyb's sister, Isuha, would decide to come here soon in the future. Her practical experience working as a seamstress' assistant in Cinran would help him a lot in finalizing the designs.

However, even with her input, it wouldn't be easy to build spinning and weaving machines from scratch, especially without access to a real power source. Human and animal strength would only go so far. But Tiranat sitting on these huge deposits of coal could change everything. With so much of it lying under the eastern hills, he knew that he had to attempt to build a steam engine soon, even if only a primitive one.

If he and Cedoron could make a working model soon, or even if by the year's end, it would change everything in the village—every craft, every workshop. It would increase the productivity of everything being done here by a factor unimaginable right now. And if Darora could craft all the machines required to produce cloth, starting from processing cotton bolls, then coupled with the productivity of the steam engine, it could drive a level of production no one in the kingdom could imagine today.

That, though, was still far ahead, since he also had other things to manage. Before anything else, he had to keep his people fed and safe. Hopefully, the apprentices being trained by the carpenters and the blacksmith would take over more responsibility in the future. It would help a lot if more people and craftsmen came to live here—but that meant they would need more food, which made it a catch-22 situation. It was always the same loop: getting more work done required more people to live here, but more people required more food, and producing more food required more people.

He breathed in the damp air and looked at the narrow muddy path in front of him. Well, he would manage. Somehow.

They kept walking and soon, they turned the last corner, the path curving toward the manor gate. Ahead, a servant was waiting just outside the entrance, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His anxious face brightened with relief when he saw them.

Duvas frowned slightly. "What's the matter?"

"I've been looking for you, milord," the servant said, bowing quickly toward Kivamus. "A merchant's been spotted coming from the north. The watchtower guards saw him a short while ago."

Kivamus grinned, the weariness of the long walk forgotten for a moment. First the bandits had been taken care of, then the hunting parties had returned when they needed them most—and now, finally, the merchants were back on the road. It almost felt like things were turning in their favor again.

Duvas nodded briskly. "If it's Pydaso or Trevalo, escort them and their wagons to the manor house as soon as they arrive. If it's anyone else, they'll know where to find me."

The servant nodded and hurried off towards the north.

Kivamus and Duvas shared a brief look before heading through the gates, boots scraping on the gravel path. Hopefully, the merchant would have brought enough grain.

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***

By the evening, the manor was quiet again. The new merchant who had arrived earlier in the day had brought four wagons with him—though only one was filled with grain. The second wagon carried odds and ends: vegetables, salt, rope, a few sacks of dried beans. The remaining two were empty, meant for taking back coal.

Duvas had handled the trade for the manor, since the two local merchants were barely buying anything these days. Hopefully, that would change when the manor started paying the guards and the villagers directly in coin.

However, as expected, the exchange with the merchant hadn't gone in their favor—grain prices were still painfully high. In total, they'd spent just over a hundred gold and earned about forty from the coal they sold. Sixty gold gone, leaving barely the same amount left in their strongbox.

It was enough to make Kivamus sigh. "We'll have to renegotiate with Trevalo when he comes," he said. "He'll understand we didn't have a choice."

Duvas nodded. "This grain will stretch our stores by a full week, but less than that if we use half for sowing."

"Keep only a third of it for sowing," Kivamus said. "We'll use the rest as food. We can't afford hunger right now. Hopefully, another merchant will arrive soon."

Duvas nodded again but didn't answer. His gaze drifted toward the floor, the way it did whenever something weighed on his mind. Kivamus noticed the hesitation—he had seen that look several times over the last few weeks—but before he could ask, the door opened and Hudan and Feroy walked in.

The captain looked dusty, as though he'd been on the training grounds since sunrise. He took a seat and exhaled. "The new guards are shaping up well," he said. "We'll keep the fresh recruits here for more drills and send the experienced men on the next hunt instead. No point risking the green ones too early, now that we have dealt with the bandits."

Feroy didn't say much, and just dropped into an armchair with a tired grunt and leaned back with his eyes half closed. Probably taking a catnap, like he often did, while still being ready for anything.

Kivamus's attention went back to Duvas, who was still fidgeting. "All right," he said. "What is it?"

The majordomo hesitated. "It's nothing, milord..."

Kivamus shook his head. "No, you seem like you want to talk about something. What is it about? You can talk to me."

Duvas dithered for a few moments, before he took a deep breath and stood up. "I guess it's time for you to know about this too... But it will be easier if I show you."

The majordomo disappeared into the adjoining room and returned with the rolled parchment of their regional map. He cleared the table, then spread the map open. The light in the hall was dim—the fireplace had been cold for weeks now because of the growing temperature—but the glow of the candles nearby was enough to make the ink lines stand out clearly.

Kivamus moved his chair closer. It was the same map Pydaso had brought the last time—crude, drawn in broad strokes that outlined the southern lands of the Reslinor kingdom and the forests and mountain ranges beyond it.

Noticing the map, Hudan and Feroy leaned forward, their earlier weariness forgotten. The flickering candlelight played across everyone's faces as they looked at the map, waiting for the majordomo to explain what had brought it out again.

Duvas's expression tightened. He rested a hand on the edge of the table, eyes fixed on the rough ink lines of the map. "I think," he said slowly, "it's finally time I tell you something I should have told you long before."

Kivamus frowned. "Something you should have told me before?"

"I know you won't like it, my lord," Duvas said, his voice low. "But I hope you can forgive me for not telling you until now. You've had too many problems on your shoulders already, and I didn't want to add another one." He tapped a spot on the map—a stretch of squiggles marking the southern forests. "The thing is… Even though we just killed most of Torhan's men, the village is not safe—far from it... That's because there are mercenaries living in those forests. Feroy can confirm it."

Feroy gave a brief nod. "That's true enough, milord. The groups I used to run with often stayed in those woods."

Kivamus looked between them, brow furrowed. "It's a little concerning that there are mercenaries in those forests, but how much does that actually affect us?"

Duvas exhaled heavily. "They're mercenaries, my lord. And that means they always want gold. More than anything else." He drew a slow breath. "I'll have to start from the beginning to make sense of this. You probably know some of it, but I'll explain it all the same."

Kivamus gestured for him to continue.